the real pony tailed me

Let me just start with this – I wear my hair in a pony tail most days. Seriously. If you came to my door mid-morning, I’d probably be wearing my black yoga pants, a teal shirt, and my hair in a messy pony tail. There would be dishes waiting to be loaded, the pillows that were once on the couch would now be in a pile on the floor, and the math sheets would just be getting started. I’d probably have a load of laundry waiting to be folded, and the boys room would have blocks on the floor, and you might hear a John Deere movie playing downstairs in the family room.

That’s me. The real me.

It would be so easy to write about, well the perfect idea of me. The gal who gets up at the crack of dawn, and makes home-made gluten free bread, and has all the homeschool lessons planned, and tends her garden well, and never ever raises her voice.

But, that’s not me.

So I see a post of mine from Monday {some {important} mom facts} — A post that gets liked with that facebook like counter quite a bit — and I’m not talking about that crazy liked Udi’s Snickerdoodle Gluten Free Pudding Pie one as that one is in a realm of it’s own. So me, the mom of seven with her hair in a ponytail and remnants of mascara on her eyes from when she ran to the grocery store to grab more jelly and toliet paper, starts to wonder what to write next.

And I’m stuck.

My life? Well, we didn’t do anything amazing today. We just did life. And I made mistakes. I wasn’t focused when I should be, and I was a bit impatient, and was on facebook too much {I just needed to see if there would be new pictures of my friend’s dear baby…}, and the house still has the pillows in a pile. That’s my life. And because of that like button I started to think that life wasn’t enough.

But, you see, it really is. We live in a world of airbrushed, photoshopped, editing perfection. It’s all around us — telling us we won’t measure up, or we’ll never be good enough, or we need to do more of this, or be skinnier, or work out more, or eat only organic, or teach our kids this way, or, well, insert what you must. That is too much. Too much pressure.

We’re moms. Wives. Friends. Sisters. Daughters.

And we’re human. Not perfect. With our hair in pony-tails.

And that? That is okay.

It is more than okay. It is good.

Sometimes the most beautiful moments in life come in the simplest things. That stack of pillows? That was a fort. The unstarted math sheets? They’re sitting there because we read instead. The dishes in the sink? They’re just there. My pony tail whipped up hair? I’m busy. I’m a mom.

And I’m real.

And that, that my friends, who are my readers who click that little thumbs up like below, that is who I am. I am not perfect, my life isn’t packaged with the perfect bow.

So thank you for supporting me, the mom, the wife, the writer, the way you do. I am so grateful. My hope? My deep down hope? Is that when you click the exit to close my page that you leave feeling hopeful or encouraged or grateful or thankful or intentional about life. And that you know that me, the person on the other side of the screen typing these letters into it, is grateful that you take time out of your day to bless me by reading my words.

Thank you. And I mean it.

Now, go and embrace you. Don’t let pony-tails, magazines, pillows on the floor, like button likes, math sheets just started, tweets, retweets, and all that other stuff define you. You have worth. Value. What you do, day after day, night after night, wiped nose after wiped nose, dishes washed, hug given, folded the clothes, played with toys, pony-tail wearing, and tended house matters. It matters.

You matter.